Black Hearted Love
by Crystalline Green
Summary: To whom do Charles Hoyt's thoughts turn during long arduous hours of near solitary confinement? There is only one and she got away.


___Pla__ying with other people's toys was always more fun..._

* * *

_**Black Hearted Love**_

He lays on his prison bunk, alone in his singe occupant cell. His eyes are closed, a serene look on his face, his limbs are relaxed, totally at rest, his breathing deep and slow. His physical self is detached from his thoughts. His body may be locked within the isolation of the one man cell, inside the walls of Souza Baranowski. But his mind. Oh his mind - that is free to roam.

He knows how to play the game, even here. In this place filled with monsters - the most dangerous people society knows about and the system has caught and seen fit to contain - he knows how to blend.

His is a considered approach, almost delicate in its balance, so far he has managed to strike one. To present himself as benign enough for the guards to not think him too much of an issue, but also when required he understands it is at times necessary to make a display of his considerable barbs, a display to the other inmates so they may understand that he is no pushover. Yet he must not appear to present too much of a threat, he seeks to avoid aggravating others with their alpha ids, doing so would be to invite trouble in the inevitable form of a challenge for supremacy.

Having a cell to himself pleases him greatly. It gives him the quiet he craves, allows him to let his guard down entirely during lock down hours. Then he can slip away from the physical world and roam the landscape known and open only to him, the one made up of memories and experiences which have the power to sustain, more so than the 'meals' they provide here with to-the-minute precision, three times daily. But then he had never been interested in food, he eats because he must. Likewise he doesn't crave human contact for the most part, though of course to that there are obvious exceptions.

Of course, they have tried to get him to talk about his 'urges'. The facility thoughtfully providing programs to rehabilitate the men detained within its walls, including 'Alternatives to Violence', 'Relapse Prevention' and 'Toastmasters' – Where they 'aim to enable improved communication, teaching inmates to express thoughts in a clear and non-threatening manner' - along with more personal conversations with one of two assigned shrinks. He voluntarily attends everything open to him; this he knows is the easiest way to keep them both off the scent his precious inner world, which he had no intention of letting them know about, never mind of allowing access to. Similarly he knows how dupe the psychiatrists, to give them just enough to placate them, make them believe they were 'seeing progress', projecting the image of him he wishes them to see, while all the time protecting that which he holds most dear.

The thrill of the chase, the feel of cool handled blade snuggly fitted in his palm; a Swann-Moston 3L fitted with a 13 blade, its weight and balance poised perfectly in his steady hand.

His once steady hand.

He flexes his still swollen hands, tightens the fingers, feeling the stiffness and discomfort within the tendons. His face contorts a little as he works though the pain; the ache of shattered bones knit together poorly following the trauma and numbness spidering out through his nerves, up into his wrists and transmitting down to his fingertips. His doctors assured him mobility will improve with time, but he knows concern for his future wellbeing were not as pressing as for someone not in his situation or of his character would have been. No top of their field plastic surgeon for him, all expenses were spared during his treatment, they did a barely adequate job and no more. His hands will never be the same.

He regrets this, of course he does, wielding his scalpel has brought him his greatest satisfaction in life and he knows that he will struggle without the dexterity he possessed before this injury. He knows that nerve damage is his greatest issue now, that there is very little likelihood the numbness will recede to a lesser degree than it already has, the damage will be permanent. For now though he diligently performs the exercises designed to build strength and improve flexibility, he knows the degree of success to his recovery is entirely up to him and the work he is willing to put in, especially during these first few months following surgery. However at the same time, he accepts and almost relishes his pain, it provides a very real link to _her_. She did this to him.

Moreover the nature of these injuries are common to them both, they represent a mutually exchanged gift. He knows she will have felt the same pain and suffered through lasting stiffness. He knows she still feels it now, even though more than a year has already passed since he gave them to her, he has seen her attempt to work it out by massaging back of her hands. Better still she recognised the fact and chose to bestow this upon him in full awareness of the link that would be forged, "We match." Therefore he will wear these scars as a badge of distinction.

As those words reverberate through his thoughts, the grimace of pain morphs into a smile of satisfaction and the calm of his features returns, even as he continues the cycle of tightening and slackening his hands, fist to flat, relentlessly.

Hoyt's mind is refocused. He regresses back to that first time, when he _had_ her. He allows everything _her_ to flood his consciousness. The feel of her warm smooth skin under his fingertips, the deceptive softness of her wild dark hair, the smell of her. The sounds she made as she struggled for consciousness, as she writhed in pain and through it all the motion of her toned, athletic body beneath his. He had taken his time to relish all of this when she was unconscious and at his mercy, instinctively understanding then that she was special, he just didn't know how much so until later, when he had time to consider how it was she had come to find him. She had hunted him. Before her he had remained untouchable, no one had even come close. Later he came to understand that she had essentially been acting alone at the time, a true lone wolf.

But for the untimely intervention of her partner - the one who didn't have her determination, her vision or confidence in radical defiance to disregard the rules, to him they were constricting in their bind, whereas she was both willing and able to slip free of them, to follow her own code of conduct when the situation demands it – he would have had her.

He admires these things about her greatly.

In pursuit of his work he had only ever felt confident when working with a partner. He had prospected for those with suitable, complimentary interests and skills. The relationships he had with them were exclusively one dimensional, there was no socialization outside of that one shared activity; the identification, pursuit and capture of their prey. And once they caught them, they each would fulfill their needs while educating and inspiring the other. It was exhilarating, but he also recognised his dependency on others to attain his objective.

Meanwhile Jane Rizzoli has chosen an environment where she is intrinsically linked to the massive body that is the BPD, yet within that structure she has managed to maintain her individuality and independence, her essence. She is thriving.

Hoyt is pleased that their encounter was not the brief one which he had originally intended. She is without compare the most worthy adversary he has ever faced and with everything he is he wants to finish what he started, but at the back of his mind there is the lingering thought that perhaps there could be more. As an opponent she stretched and challenged him as no one ever had before, but as a partner…

If he could take her and hold her, could he open her mind to his philosophy, could she be shaped and molded to accept his way of life, become the one he has been eternally searching for? He is aroused by the notion and allows himself time to build and be consumed by this reverie.

She has the instinct, he has seen her in action first hand. Killing comes naturally to her, when the time comes she does not hesitate, does not flinch. She will reassure herself that these acts are performed out of and in the line of duty, that they are imperative to self-preservation. Which he supposes is the truth, but he believes that uncompromising instinct cannot be taught, it is natural and hard wired into each and every human on the planet, but within some like her, like him, it is its own beast. Snarling, just barley contained under the surface, searching, prowling for the occasion, the reason to be unleashed.

Together they would be a rare and singular entity, unique.

He imagines her thinking of him, it is his most appealing fantasy. He wants her to want him.


End file.
